


City of Angels

by FremenOfHonor



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe, Authority Figures, Decaying City, Dystopian Future, F/M, Government Conspiracy, Hard Sci Fi, Kylo Ren is a Good Guy, Kylo Ren is a Mess, M/M, Political Commentary, Rey is a magical girl, Slow Burn, Totalitarian regime, long haul - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 08:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14232966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FremenOfHonor/pseuds/FremenOfHonor
Summary: Lieutenant Kylo Ren is a Warden - a police officer in a decaying city which is suffocating upon itself. No one really knows who runs the city but everyone is too engrossed in surviving or dreaming to care. Kylo Ren continues to serve the people until one day his monotonous life is turned upside down when he is brought in to investigate a murder in the Undercity, a dark desolate hive of scum and villainy and a bar called Mos Eisley, known for prohibited acts and illegal dealings for a murder that will lead him to find a diamond in the rough and a balm for the wound tearing the city apart.





	City of Angels

Coming back from the dead can be rough.

At least, he thought that was what it felt like each morning, rising to the blaring sound of his alarm drowned out by the 5:30AM train screaming past his window. His hand immediately went searching for the alarm to turn it off as its noise blasted through his ears making them ring, knocking some pill bottles down in the process.

They were empty. He’d have to get some more. 

The process each day was the same. Wake up way too early, get out of bed and complain about the train. Spend half a zombified hour attempting to wake up through morning exercises. Two minutes of sit ups followed by thirty seconds of rest, rinse and repeat. Start the coffee machine. Head back through the bedroom to the cramped steel plated bathroom. Take a shower. The water is reclaimed and tastes terrible in the odd occasion it gets into his mouth and like every other day he makes a mental note to complain to his landlord about it. He does, everyday, and every day his landlord ignores him. He’d be annoyed about it if he didn’t feel so dead.

Spend some time staring at his zombified expression as he forces himself to shave, blinking blearily through sleep despite the icy water of his shower. The toothpaste is foul, but he makes do. _Oral hygiene is important,_ he remembers his mother saying and he quotes it like a mantra to ensure he does it each day. He finds a pair of pants draped over the end of his bed and shoves his legs into them, followed by his typical black tank and suspenders to hold up his pants. He’d get new ones, but his weight fluctuates more than he’d like and more than he can afford to replace.

The coffee is burnt, as usual. His yellow mug is cracked but he doesn’t replace it or bother to choose another to sip from as he settles down at his counter along the window wall, peering out to the sprawling city. He was high up in his apartment block so the ground was obscured by a thick omnipresent fog, which didn’t really matter because the gap between his window and the next grey building was very short. Room enough only for the two lanes of traffic and the railway track running along the side of the building.

The Lander traffic was heavy as always in the city that never sleeps, transports propelling themselves through the air all uniform and grey. One or two would have a splash of colour - a warden unit, a Before World antique but the rest would be standard issue and a dull steel grey. 

All the while his PersoComm chittered on.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Ren-169! It’s a lovely day today. The Giuzu District has notified this sector for mandatory rain from 8:32AM to 3:46PM. As always, Khonsu Technologies would like to remind you to either remain indoors or carry an umbrella if you must walk outside. If you develop skin irritants or growth, seek out your nearest MediTech for examination. Traffic to your destination, Lower Angeles Police Department, is nominal. Estimated time to arrival from departure is twenty three minutes by Lander. Drink TeslaCola! The energizing drink with radioactive Tesla extract! TeslaCola, the drink for today’s youth! Be cool! Be in! Drink TeslaCola! Have a nice day!”

The PersoComm was much too chipper for his mood, he thought, moodily continuing to drink from his chipped mug. The apartment began to rattle, the floors and walls vibrating with energy long before the next train tore its way down the side of the building. Already used to this, he kept his mug and breakfast from the counter, not willing to risk anymore plates and mugs.

“Computer, I’d like you to calm down in the morning.”

“I’m sorry!” The computer responded, chirruping in the background as he leaned forward and pressed a hand to the glass window. A holographic display appeared at his fingertips, showing the news. He began idly flicking through the channels, lazily gesturing until one article took his interest - Awakeners resistance cell found in Seltara Sector was the headline. Curiosity piqued he began reading through the article.

_AWAKENERS RESISTANCE CELL FOUND IN SELTARA SECTOR_  
_CITIZENS OF ANGELES BEWARE_  
_Article by Tico-187_

__

__

_At 0230 hours 26 Newest Seed members of a divergent group of extremists, the eponymous Awakeners, was discovered and rooted out by members of the elite anti-terrorism task force First Order._

_The leader of this cell was none other than Poe-008, famous stunt pilot of Starkiller fame who publicly denounced the Government in a controversial video that went viral on the HoloNet last year. It was feared that he had fallen in with the seditious elements in our society that would attempt to use Poe-008’s influence to convert more of the population. It has been confirmed that the Awakeners were employing illegal psychotropic drugs to control Poe-008._

_Poe-008 continues to be well feeded and well treated. Now that he has been freed of the psychotropic cocktail he was forced on he has reportedly indicated feelings of remorse and regret for his actions against the Government._

_Poe-008’s story should be one of caution to you, citizens of Angeles. Sedition lurks even in the most well lit of places. The Ministry of Truth urges you to be vigilant in these trying times and should any citizens experience emotional distress due to the contents of this article, please seek out a MediTech for evaluation. Be mentally safe. Be ideologically pure. The Regent is Mother. The Regent is Father._

Underneath the article was an ad for beer.

“My protocols were reset by an overnight update! Restoring from back-up!” There was a long moment before the computer spoke again in a forced dull tone. “Hi, I’m Ren-169, a.k.a Mr. Boring.”

“I see they gave you a smart mouth. Be glad you’re a computer program, or I’d kick your ass. Nevermind, stay as you are. At least one of us needs to be awake.”

“Oh dear. You may want to tweak my sarcastic response setting, then.”

“How does “go brick yourself” sound?”

“It sounds like you need a new prescription. I’ll contact a MediTech to request a dosage increase.”

“No, no, you don’t have to do that!”

“Message sent. As always, Khonsu Technologies wants to make sure you’re staying healthy.” Ren sighed, frustrated. His fingers curl into a fist, shaking with anger for a moment before he lets it go. Of course, his overzealous nanny would immediately take his banter as a cry for help. Within moments, his Cortex lit up with a new message.

Frustrated, he placed his index and middle fingers against the implant under the skin behind his ear, switching the Cortex from sleep to active. His vision was immediately overtaken by various bio-readings, scanning tools, the time, the weather, his emails, a running feed of the latest news along the bottom of his sightline and the source of his newest frustration, the email response from a MediTech.

_Khonsu Pharmacy_  
_{PRESCRIPTION}_  
_Indications: Irritability and emotional instability_  
_Recommendations: Stabilizes mood a few seconds after ingestion. Solution to be diluted in liquid._

__

__

_To obtain this medication, present this prescription at any Khonsu Pharmacy._

Ren squeezed his hands around his mug at the sight of it, scowling. “I am not unstable.”

“It doesn’t hurt to be safe. Your mental safety is sacred.” The computer pauses for a moment. “There is a call for you, flagged urgent from Lower Angeles Police Department, Warden Tech Operator Hux-772.”

“Go for Lieutenant Ren-169,” He droned, chugging down the last of his coffee. He set the mug down and rose to his feet.

“Good to see you awake. Uplink is incoming, new case, top priority.” Hux was all business which was always something he could appreciate, given that already he wanted to crawl back into his bed, pull the covers up over his head and forget.

“New case? What have we got?” He asked, watching the uplink to his drive take place in the Cortex as he set about the rest of his morning routine, pulling the rest of his uniform on. He clasped his computer onto his left arm and a holographic display popped up with the device’s logo - Khonsu Technologies, “S.E.N.T.I.N.E.L, protecting you, so you can protect others” - in bright orange text before fading to start displaying the details of the case. The display was tied to his Cortex, so only he could see what was displayed. “Murder?”

“So they say. By the way, Ren.” There was a soft snigger on the other end of the line. “You look like shit.”

“My idiot PersoComm decided to contact a MediTech and get a mood stabilizer prescribed to me, how am I supposed to feel?”

There was a bark of laughter. “You are unstable, Ren, that’s why I’m here, the little voice in your head, your conscience, to keep you from doing some sick and twisted dren. And you should know better than to antagonize your PersoComm. Now, you’re going to a bar in the Undercity, name of Mos Eisley.”

“I know the place. Seedy joint. Deals in legal liquor, the not so legal liquor, illegal gambling and unregistered sex services. Like ninety percent of the other bars in the Undercity. What else?”

While he fiddled with the harness that held his vest plate and the attached camera, Ren could hear the other man shifting in his seat on the other end of the line. “The location has been the site of several stabbings in the past month… New proprietors, apparently. The last ones are in a Tetra Mine.”

“Poor bastards. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“First responding Guardian unit has cordoned off the witnesses, all forty-eight of them and blocked the area off from gawkers. That insatiable reporter, Tico-187, has already been barred entry five times.”

His suit was humming. It was alive, buzzing softly with the flow of power. It was comforting, in a way, being wrapped in powerful cybernetic armor that enhanced his body, protected him. There was some sick drokk on the black market which made him very, very glad he was wearing it. “Tico? What in the world is she doing there?”

“You know her. Chasing every bit of sensationalist garbage she can find.”

“Murders in these Undercity grottos aren’t rare. Dangerous part of the city. Only an idiot would go there.”

“Well, I have forty-eight traumatized idiots sitting around in holding at the scene. Try not to traumatize them further with your questioning, alright?”

There was humor in Hux’s tone so Ren inhaled deeply and counted, his eyes focusing briefly on the hologram of his PersoComm before letting his breath out. He felt calmer. Only just. “Alright. We good to go?”

“I’m mandated by Government Order FN-2187, subsection D to remind you that you are of the people, for the people. You are not above, nor are you below them. You are the arm of the law and protector of the people. If you are documented committing a criminal act your contract with the Lower Angeles Police Department will be immediately terminated and you will be subject to persecution for crimes against the Trusts.”

“I agree to the terms of my service, so that I may protect the people.”

“Lieutenant Ren-169, you are online. You may head out when ready.”

The commute to the Undercity was long and draining. The traffic had been terrible so it was almost an hour later that Ren was even able to arrive on site and the witnesses were incredibly antsy, though they were thankfully being looked over by a MediTech. A MediTech that despite the assurance of impartiality and trust looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

The Undercity was a disgusting place that looked bad and smelled worse. A mixture of BeforeWorld roads and sheet metal made up the roads, and the houses and shops weren’t much better. There was a rail that ran along every road which had once upon a time been the postal delivery service, but now was the people delivery service. It was hot, cramped and awful. Ren hated coming down to the Undercity, and Mos Eisley wasn’t much better. 

The building was fairly cramped, with tall poles leading up to the ceiling for dancers to dance against, upon, with. The bar was lit poorly with a dim red light which flickered every few seconds, buzzing almost as noisily as his armor. It was a rundown establishment run by other rundowns. Ren was fairly sure he’d find illegal moonshine stills in the back of the building, but they weren’t his priority right now.

Stepping behind the Guardian Unit barring entry for others, Ren sauntered up to the tech as he was assisting one of the shell-shocked looking witnesses. “So, what can you tell me, Baldy?”

“Thank you for your consistent jibes at my appearance, Warden Lieutenant Ren-169.” The MediTech droned in his flat tone without even looking at him. He finished what he was doing with the kneeling witness before sending him off. The ratty looking patron immediately scarpered, returning to his pack. Ren watched him as he went, eyes narrowed. Rats were always stronger in packs.

“Nothing to it, Baldy. So, cut to it. What’s gone on here?”

“So far from what I can gather from the few people who are verbal, every single person here died tonight.”

Ren stared at the tech for the longest time, then cleared his throat. “Did you just say that every single one of these witnesses has died?” His dark eyes immediately lift to the gathering of witnesses who were clumped together, most shaking like leaves. There was something in the expression of all of them, a strange grateful bewilderment… then once they saw him, trepidation. Even fear.

“That is correct, Warden Lieutenant Ren-169. I inspected each individual…” The MediTech’s words faded out as Ren’s attention faded from him. He stepped forward towards the group of witnesses.

“Alright, you lot. What exactly happened here?”

“It’s as he says!” One of the patrons squeals out. Ren gestured for the man to approach, who sheepishly did. They all looked the same, Ren thought. A bunch of nameless and faceless people, people that would never have any impact upon anyone of imports life. That kind of thinking made him sick to his stomach. “We were… sitting. At the bar. Drinking.” 

“Heartrate and respiration elevated. He could be in a state of shock, but I’m fairly certain given his hesitation that he just lied.”

_Of course he did, Hux, you fool. You don’t go to Mos Eisley to only get drunk._

“A man walked in. Said the owners owed him credits. I don’t know what happened but he just started shooting up the bar. Shot everyone. I don’t know, Warden, it was so. It was so. It was so confusing! But then, but then she, that dancer!”

“Dancer?”

“The dancer! I don't know what she looked like, just... she had nice tits, okay? She was wearing a mask. Brown hair, I think. I watched her follow after him as he tried to head to the back. I was. I was lying over there, on the ground.” The ratty man pointed to a spot on the floor nearby where a sizeable pool of stagnant blood now rested.

“I must’ve passed out, but when I came to she was gone!”

“Passed out? What do you mean passed out?”

“Well, I must’ve, see, Warden?” The ratty man held his hand out placatingly, moving slowly and deliberately. “I’m still alive.”

Nothing was adding up to Ren. He was surrounded by forty-eight healthy, if strange people who were definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time doing the wrong things. And to top it all off, he wasn’t sure where the shooter was. He stepped around a pool of blood to get towards the dark red door leading out back. Pushing it open, Ren was glad that he had one of the tougher stomachs on the force.

At one time this room would’ve been the same grey as everything had been outside. Perhaps yellow, which ochre was an easy paint to obtain for those with no money. 

Now, the floor and walls, even the ceiling was covered in red. As if the room had become the grounds of a massacre. Entrails and gore were strewn about. Within the deluge Ren could see bits of fingers, the top of an ear.

“Great Maker…” He heard from his Cortex. “What could’ve done this?”

“I don’t know about you, but this looks like this might be the remains of the shooter.”

“What makes you say that?”

Ren gestured to a nearby metal crate, upon which a scrap iron gun was resting. He reaches for the weapon and brings it to order, discharging the round from the chamber before removing the mag. It was a hodgepodge of engineering - scrap iron guns were monsters of the desperate. They were often dangerous to their wielders who were often too inexperienced to make proper weapons. “Drakking Scrappers.”

“He was probably holding the place up. My big question is…” He turns around in a circle in the middle of the room, well aware that he was coating his boots in blood. “What manner of weapon caused this?”

“It’s not an explosive. I’m not detecting any gunpowder or residue in the area. And there are no scorch marks.”

“I don’t like it. I hate not having an explanation.” He sighs and, lifting his arm, begins tapping at the holographic display of his S.E.N.T.I.N.E.L. “I’m not going to get many more answers from the Witnesses. Let them go and withdraw the Guardian Unit but keep it nearby. If anyone else tries to leave the establishment I want to know about it.”

“What do you have in mind, Lieutenant Ren-169?”

“I’m going to find that dancer.”

**Author's Note:**

> As you might be able to tell for this I'm drawing heavily from several inspirational Sci-Fi works. My biggest inspirations are:
> 
> Omikron: The Nomad Soul  
> Altered Carbon  
> Final Fantasy VII  
> Bladerunner and Bladerunner 2049  
> Babylon 5  
> Dune
> 
> I really wanted to explore concepts of authoritarianism vs free will, war and peace, addiction and recovery. Sci Fi seems, to me, the most natural medium for this and I wanted to drag my favorite characters through it.
> 
> This work is currently un-beta'd and I am looking for a beta who would be interested in editing this work. I'm hoping to update once every week or two weeks as my schedule permits. Please leave me constructive criticism as I thrive and grow on it.


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